A New Friend
by ennisjackgal
Summary: Set after ASiP, post-episode. Sherlock and John take a breather after the events at the college and start to form their friendship.


_Author's notes_

_Another one shot. no warnings or anything. Could be interpreted as Johnlock if you want to ;) References lines that were in the unaired pilot but taken out of ASiP. Just something nice :)_

_Kathryn xxx_

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**A New Friend**

They made their way back to Baker Street in the cab, thankful for the quiet around them after the excitement of the evening. They would probably have to talk about what had happened; John didn't mind this because there were still some questions he had, and he wondered if Sherlock wanted to talk.

Upon finding the Chinese that Sherlock had mentioned, they went inside (but not until Sherlock had inspected the door handle; John didn't quite understand that one).

"Nice enough place," he commented as they walked inside; there were only two other people here at the same table considering how late it was. Both of them were glad that they could talk in privacy.

When they were shown to their table, Sherlock immediately took the seat facing the window; John figured that he liked looking out at the people who might pass by. "Anything interesting?" John asked, and he shook his head.

"Nothing. It's quiet...calm...nothing happening at all," he sighed, and John had to smile; it seemed that Sherlock was only happy when there was something to investigate.

"Well, we need to eat," John reminded him, grabbing a menu. Sherlock followed suit, almost reluctantly. He knew that John would only keep nagging him in Doctor Mode if he didn't eat; it had been a while anyway. He found something that he liked and waited for John before signalling for the waitress; he had learned tonight that John truly did want to be part of this life. He hadn't expected that. He'd certainly hoped for a flatmate to help with the rent, but John was more than that now. He could be a colleague after all.

"So..." John started after their order had been taken. "About the cabbie...why did he kill all those people? What was he getting out of it?"

"He...was dying, from an aneurysm and estranged from his children," Sherlock started in that monotonous voice. "He said that since he wouldn't leave them a lot of money, he had a sponsor. The more lives he took, the more money went to them."

John couldn't believe that; he'd never heard of something like this before. "What? Who would do that?"

"Moriarty," Sherlock said simply, and John remembered that Sherlock had no idea what the name meant. "He said the name just before he died."

"So who is Moriarty?" John asked. Sherlock shrugged.

"No idea...but I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough. Turns out he's a fan, according to the cabbie. He's seen the website, so...I suppose he'll reveal himself at some point."

John nodded; he had to admit that he was wary. If this Moriarty wanted to hurt Sherlock, what would that mean for him? He didn't have any other friends in London apart from Mike, and even they weren't close. But he felt drawn to Sherlock in some way, and kept thinking about what Mycroft had said to him.

"_You're not haunted by the war, Dr Watson. You miss it. Welcome back."_

He knew now what that meant. He needed something to do, and being a doctor just wasn't going to cut it. Perhaps working with Sherlock would give him what he needed.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked for the second time that night when John fell silent.

"Yeah. It's just...something Mycroft said to me when we met. He's like you, a little bit."

"Only in that he can do what I can," Sherlock replied, hoping to make that point clear. He did not want John thinking that he was like Mycroft in any other way; he could barely stand his brother. "We are not alike."

"Okay," John said, trying to keep the peace. "Anyway...when I realised where you'd gone, I figured that I should call Lestrade and go after you. I didn't really realise that the cabbie was the murderer at first, but then you got into the cab...so it wasn't difficult. I thought I should keep an eye on you."

"And...you're okay that you had to kill someone?" Sherlock asked, wondering vaguely if John might have had any doubts. But as he'd told Lestrade, the shot had been perfectly executed.

John sighed. "I had to do it; you would've taken the pill otherwise and you didn't know if it was the right one. Not even you could have guessed that. I just didn't know what else to do, since you didn't hear me shouting."

"I'm not...ungrateful," Sherlock told him, trying to have a normal conversation as much as he could. Something about John made him want to reach out and talk, which he wasn't used to; this man had earned his trust tonight. "I...hope you won't...I mean..."

"Sherlock...I've seen friends die on the battlefield. Good men who had families back here. I didn't sleep much over there after watching someone die...thought I'd never sleep again, to be honest. But tonight...I'll sleep fine. Those guys didn't deserve to die; the cabbie was only going to kill more people if he wasn't stopped. So it's fine." He smiled slightly. "Really."

Sherlock was trying to understand John's thinking, but it wasn't easy. They were very different, but maybe that was a good thing. John could keep him on the right track and focused. "So, um...the next time I have a case..."

"I'll help out if you want me to," John offered, nodding. "I'm not doing anything else right now, and I might as well. I've seen the flat; your work is everywhere and I can't just leave you to it. I'll get roped in whether I like it or not. But...I don't mind helping out."

He smiled again and returned to his food, leaving Sherlock with plenty to think about. John was different from the other people he knew, such as Molly and Lestrade. He was calm, which oddly enough didn't seem boring. And Sherlock knew he could trust him after tonight; that was more than he could have hoped for in a new flatmate. The next time he had a case, at least he wouldn't be alone in solving it.


End file.
